


It always came back to Tysha

by ImhereImQuire



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drunkenness, M/M, Masturbation, Pity Sex, Preseries, Sibling Incest, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImhereImQuire/pseuds/ImhereImQuire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime gets drunk with Tyrion and feels guilty about the lack of affection in his brother's life... and his part in that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It always came back to Tysha

They were both drunk, at Tyrion's insistence. Don't let me drink alone, Jaime, he had pleaded. Only the worst tavern drunks drink alone, he had added, and Jaime felt guilt enough that once again family came before either duty or honour.

"What if it never happens, Jaime?" the younger brother asked.

"It'll happen" Jaime replied, sounding cross, but more than a little uncomfortable.

"You don't believe that" the teen snapped and there was wine in his belly the words were sharp and clear. The next words however were muttered, resentful rather than angry. "If you believed that then you wouldn't have thought you needed to..." he trailed off, but the accusation was clear.

Tysha, it always came back to Tysha, didn't it, Jaime thought to himself. She was always at the bottom of the second skin, even now. "It wasn't like that, Tyrry" he protested, trying to think of some excuse to sweeten that first awful lie. "I just wanted you to... have practice, that's all. So that when you meet the right girl -and you will, don't tell me that you won't because you will, I know it for truth- you wouldn't make an arse of yourself. That's all"

"No one will ever want me. You knew it then, and we both know it now" the younger boy insisted, sounding forlorn as he only did when they were alone, and there was no one else to hear his heartbreak.

A Lannister always pays their debts, thought Jaime and in his drunkenness he came upon a point of sudden clarity. If there was but one thing he could do for Tyrion it was this.

"Cersei can never know" he said firmly. That was vital. 

"I think Cersei already knows I'm unlovable. She's spoken extensively on the sub- oh" Tyrion's words were cut off by Jaime's mouth, wet and clumsy but undeniably soft, and though he knew it to be pity he couldn't make himself pull away, because pity was still proof that somebody cared enough to pretend for the sake of his happiness, and not coin.

"Close your eyes" Jaime's whisper was low in his ear as he was pushed down into the pillows. "Close your eyes and think of whichever wench it is that has gotten you so morose" he continued, and his brother obeyed, or at least gave the appearance of it, though in truth there was no woman in his mind, nobody but Jaime; Jaime, who loved him enough for this, even if nobody else would, Jaime who was everything he would never be; tall and golden, handsome and strong. Jaime whom he should hate for it, but loved nevertheless for being all those things and still being kind to him. 

The kisses were lighter than he would ever have imagined a man to be capable of, and yet they had an urgency to them, something heavy and loving, and even if it were a different kind of love than he hoped for it was still more than he'd ever expected.

His shirt was pulled open at its laces, and kisses became bites, leaving him squirming. "Who are you thinking of?" Jaime asked him, and he gasped a name, the daughter of some lord from the stormlands, the first he could come up with to hide the embarrassing truth; that it was Jaime he thought of, Jaime who loved him enough to pretend with him like this, to give him a taste of what it was to be touched in fondness if not passion. 

Jaime for his part gave some non-committal noise, and took his brother's hand, sticking it down his leggings, encouraging him to take his prick own in hand. "Imagine her well then" he said softly, as he nipped and kissed along the other's jawline, shifting to lie flush against Tyrion's side so that he could feel both weight and warmth.

So that was where the line was, Tyrion thought to himself as his hand closed about his own length as it was directed, and though he knew it was due to his sex rather than his deformities he was left oddly disappointed that Jaime would not deign to stroke him himself, even this once, which he was sure even now was all it would be. Once. Still it was better than nothing, he told himself, and he was already so hard and drunk as he was the kisses alone were enough to quicken him.

In the end it didn't last long, couldn't last long, not the way that Jaime's teeth closed about his earlobe, worrying it with a ferociousness which was so undeniably Jaime that he lost himself at once, shooting seed into his palm with a cry on his lips which he told himself sounded enough like Jeyne that he could deny anything else, should his brother ask.

Jaime didn't ask but he also didn't stay, and it was clear from the other's obvious discomfort that he'd been correct in his assessment; nothing of the sort would ever happen again. Tyrion pretended not to care, and never spoke of it again, leaving it where it belonged, in the haze of drinking binges past, but for a time he broke with his usual habits and the women he gave coin to all had golden hair.


End file.
